Try Me
by ThroughMistyEyes
Summary: <html><head></head>What happens when Juliette travels back to save one key aspect to Omega Point? Only time will tell!</html>
1. How It Began

***Author's Note* Hey, guys! So this is my first attempt at a Shatter Me fanfic, and I'm hoping to get lots of criticism, so don't hold back. Enjoy this, and the next chapter will be up soon, I promise! This is more of a teaser, anyway... mwhaha. **

**-Misty**

* * *

><p>Kenji's eyes are wide and round, two clocks ticking away the 60 59 58 seconds I have left now.<p>

"You sure about this, J?" he asks, acting concerned for once.

I nod and swallow. "Yes."

Warner appears at Kenji's side, hair disheveled, with Adam and James in tow. James runs up to me and buries his face in my shirt, clinging to me as I blink once twice three times before giving him a tight squeeze.

"She'll be fine, kid," says Kenji, and James reluctantly lets go to stand next to him. Adam scratches the back of his neck. He opens his mouth as if to say something fo moments that suspend gravity, but then closes it and steps back.

I look at Kenji and silently ask him. "Any moment now," he says. "Any moment."

Warner steps forward and grabs my shoulders, as if to make sure I'm still here. "When you're there," he says, his voice low and urgent, "don't forget to convince me. I was a different man back then. Make me change my mind, by any means possible."

I nod again, not trusting my shaky fragile scared heart to speak for me. He grips me harder, as though he could keep me here and now, and presses his lips to mine, hard and desperate.

Adam coughs in the background, but my eyes stay shut, pushed firmly down to prevent the shaking. Aaron lets go, quickly, but then leans forward to whisper in my ear, "Stay strong, love. I believe in you." He inhales, a sharp quick silent scared breath and takes a step back, running his hand through his hair again.

"Damn it, Juliette." says Kenji. "Just… be careful okay?"

I look around to the dark room where Aaron originally tested me with the simulation. Despite the fact that I now know the truth, the irony of the situation hits me. The place where I founded my hatred for Aaron is the same place where I am going back to help him.

The glass wall that I broke through just months ago stares back at me large, haunting, and still shattered. Apparently Warner was too busy trying to deal with Omega Point and still help us at the same time that he didn't waste any fixing it. Castle, Lily, and the twins are behind it, watching the process.

Omega Point still exists, in it's small, fifteen person group of leaders that somehow is still working to destroy the Reestablishment. But I truly think we can do it, with some help. And it's my turn to go and fetch that help.

I turn back to my team, and clench my fists. "I can do this."

Warner nods and presses the button on the wall to open the door. In steps Justin, the only new recruit we have, who has a curse gift no one thought possible. His blond hair sweeps in front of his eyes, which possesses such a mischievous glint that I nearly decide against our plan.

"You done?" spits Adam, the first thing he's said since I agreed to this.

"Yup." Justin smiles. "All juiced up. Castle helped. I should have enough power to give you about 48 hours, Juliette." He turns to me.

"Remember," he continues, his endings clipped, "Once those two days are up, that's it. You're coming back, whether you like it or not."

I'm back to nodding again.

"Well, okay. I hope you know what you're getting into." He doesn't smile this time, and reaches out his arm to touch me.

I glance at Aaron, and our eyes meet for the quickest of seconds before I flash green blue white bright and the world spins into darkness.


	2. Digging Deeper

***Author's Note* So, here we are. Juliette's story is continuing! I have a rough sketch of what's going to happen next, but I'm open to suggestions. I know people love Warnette scenes, and there will be LOTS of that in this, but right now I'm super excited to see how you guys think current Juliette should meet past Juliette. Let me know!  
><strong>**-Misty**

* * *

><p>It's as if I'm waking up with a bad hangover. A <em>very<em> bad hangover.

My head is pounding, a desperate beat in my head throbbing one two three and I try to suck in a breath but it sticks like shards in my throat. It takes a herculean effort to open my eyes, and when I do, the ceiling spins above me.

I roll onto my feet and reach my hands out, groping to the side. My fingers skim a wall and I drag myself up, leaning against it for support. Gasping another breath, I let myself drink up five seconds of borrowed time before straightening slowly slowly slowly and moving off the wall.

My hair has fallen out of its ponytail and the tendrils float around my face in hundreds thousands millions of dull strands. For some reason, this annoys me the most, and the minute I tie it back I feel better. More in control. More prepared. Ready to do what I came here to do.

I glance around at my surroundings, trying to figure out where I am. The hallway is short and immaculately clean, with white tiles gleaming on the floor. I can hear guards chattering meaninglessly just around the bend and I follow the trail of noise. The more guards, the closer I am to Warner's room.

And the closer I am to Warner.

I was warned not to leave a trail, to only come for only that one event, to not change anything anyone anymore than I need to. So instead of barreling hallways until I find Aaron, I take a breath and stretch open my hands, palms up and feel the soldier's energy.

Their boredom is tangible. They're only doing this job to feed their families, and only one of them, a muscular, dark-skinned man, is standing up. The other two look much younger and are sitting on the floor, leaning into the wall. Their guns lay side-by-side on the floor next to them.

But oh, are they talking. And not just meaningless chatter, no, not at all, and as I listen I feel my stomach boiling and my intestines knotting and they tighten around my spine until I can't breathe I can't breathe and suddenly everything could be different.

"When?" says the one who's sitting on the floor, idly toying with the trigger on his gun.

"Tonight," responds the standing one. "Fletcher's going to take us there. He's got it all planned out." His voice is rough but not harsh, with just a hint of authority as if to simply remind the others who's in charge.

Fletcher. Private Seamus Fletcher. I know about Fletcher. Fletcher is why I'm here.

"How do we know we can trust you?" asks the other sitting one. This is when I realize the two ones on the floor must be brothers. Their dark brown hair and sharp eyes mirror each other's.

The whole vibe changes from carefree to laced with danger, as if they were all balancing on a scale and one wrong move could tip it.

The muscular man stares at both of them for two seconds that drop off cliffs. "How do_ I_ know that I can trust _you_?"

"Please," scoffs the first. "You need us. Whether or not you trust us isn't the issue."

The man uses all his seconds this time. "And so I'll say to you. You need protection, and you need training."

_Training? _I think.

"And only we can offer you that. So go. Or don't go. But if you spread this to the wrong people, we will find out," he continues.

And just then do I realize that the gun the sitting one's been playing with is now a mangled sheet of metal.

I can't think anymore. I've ceased to exist, I've ceased to feel anything but confusion and excitement and disappointment and I can't think I can't think I can't. There are others. And this man, _this man_, knows where they are. But I've never met this man before. Ever. I've never seen him walk the hallways of Omega Point or talk to Castle or meet with Kenji or even be part of a mission. And Castle has shared everything with me. Everything.

So I can only guess. He's not part of Omega Point.

It takes approximately two and a half breaths to steady myself. Another three to feel fully in control again. 7 seconds to stand up straight, 4 to ready myself for what I'm about to do. Because no matter what he just said, I can't let them see me. I can't change this. I can only do what I'm here to do.

I clear my mind, take a breath, and force the soldiers to face the wall. The chatting instantly ceases as they are pushed to one side, and then the dark-skinned one begins to shout. Once again I'm surprised by how easy it is, and how detached I feel as I tell myself lies. Just tools, simply tools, to use as a means to an end, but it still feels wrong, all wrong, to control someone like this.

But I have to. So I do.

I force them to remain that way, eyes facing away from me, and I can feel their rising panic, their need to see what's going on.

I walk over silently and take another breath before knocking the first one down with a swift hit to the temple. I remind myself that I only need them unconscious, not dead, and try to reign myself in as much as I can. One by one, all three fall like dominos, and soon, it's over. And I can't help feeling drunk on power and guilty all the same.

I give myself the luxury of one thought. _They were going to escape tonight. To someone. Someplace. _

But I don't let myself dwell, I can't let myself dwell, I can't even being to think about what this might means so I begin to run, pounding my feet on the floor as fast as I can as I whip through rooms and hallways. And suddenly, I begin to recognize this as somewhere on the fifth floor. Just one underneath my old room. All I need to do is find an elevator.

And two minutes and 7 soldiers later, I do. But as I press the button and look at the glass walls, I can't help to feel unease rising in my stomach. It all feels too simple too easy too predictable and the elevator slides down and chimes. And opens. Opens up, and I see that it's not empty. Not at all.

Because when the doors slide open and I peer inside ready to fight all I see are two very buff soldiers covered head-to-toe in clothing and one very small, very fragile looking girl.

It takes me less than one second to realize I am looking at myself.


	3. Unfair

"Shit," I say.

_Bad Juliette. _I can almost hear Kenji say. _You don't want to scare yourself. _I can almost see the glint in his eyes. And I realize that I have no idea how to handle this. 

This girl, Juliette, me, backs up into the wall, her eyes wide, her hands clenched at her side, her mouth open and her spine straight. She shakes her head almost imperceptibly. Once. Twice. Three times.

And then she bursts into a torrent of verbal abuse at the soldiers.

"I don't know what you gave me or what's going on, but I want it to stop right now, right now. What is going on? WHAT IS GOING ON?!" she screams and starts to curl up into a ball, lying on the floor.

The soldiers just keep on looking back and forth from her to me, me to her, at us over and over again. Their mouths are gaping slightly as they try to figure out what to do, but I don't give them time to act on their plan.

With a sweep, they're both in a crumpled pile on the floor, unconscious. Simple. Easy. Done.

Old Juliette lifts her head and runs to the soldiers as if to help them, but stops herself in a crouch, as if just remembering that she cannot touch them. Then she tilts her head up and stares at me for six eight ten seconds and her eyes are knives gouging out my soul. And so I do the only thing I can think of.

I reach out my hand.

She immediately withdraws, falls to the floor shaking, and whispers fiercely, "You can't touch me. Don't touch me. Get away. Get away."

I stare at her again, wondering whom this person is. Was this truly who I was? I can't stop examining myself. This is how I look like when my hair's streaming waterfalls down my back. This is how my eyes look when I'm frightened and scared to death. This is how I tremble, all one motion, fluid, as if I'm vibrating rather than quaking. I have a sudden but intense need to protect her. Me. Us.

She blinks.

I blink.

The elevator chimes and the doors close softly behind her, leaving us alone on the floor, and I curse myself momentarily for missing my ride. But I know I have to deal with this first. So without even realizing exactly what I'm doing, I crouch down and grab her hand before she can tug away.

She yanks, a rough, tearing motion that holds so much energy it's a surprise she doesn't tug my hand off. But I hold on to her, forcing her to look me in the eye until she stops struggling. I don't feel her power; I don't feel pain ripping apart my body. How could I? I can't hurt myself. Tears start streaking down her face and she can't help but ask.

"Why can't I hurt you?"

I sigh.

"Who are you?" She asks again.

"You." I whisper.

My words fall softly, bouncing off silent glances and open eyes and tightly clenched hands and the slow slow slow recognition that I see in her. I expect confusion. Anger. Maybe even fear. But she just nods, a simple up and down motion that changes everything.

"Prove it," she says.

"Prove it?" I ask.

She nods. "Yeah."

I stare at her for just a few moments and wonder how she expects me to prove that I'm her. I look like her, don't I? I mean, yeah, sure, I carry myself differently, with my hands at my sides and my back straight, while she still wraps herself in a cocoon of mistrust and self-hate that forces her to hunch down with the weight of the world. But we still look as though we could be twins.

I begin, "I have your -our- power, you know."

She cuts me off. "No, you don't."

"Um. Yeah. I do," I say.

"I just saw what you did. I can't do that. I don't know how you have a… a… power, like me, but that's not the same as mine. I can't just chop people down like trees." Her mouth is set in a grim, defiant line.

I sigh again. "You will be able to, in time."

"I would never choose to, though!" She screams back angrily, her composure melting off like wax. "I would never choose to use that force against someone! It's unfair!"

"Unfair?" I whisper, my voice suddenly deadly silent. I hadn't realized how much that comment affected me until I notice my own hand twitching, as if to reach out and strangle her.

"Unfair?" I repeat, and stare at her incredulously. "Don't tell me about unfair. I know about unfair. You know about unfair. We know more about unfair together than anyone else in this whole building. Our entire life is unfair."

My serene calm has shot to anger in less than two seconds. I can't remember the last time someone got me so angry. She stares back at me, watching my rant take form and cut through the air. Her blinking increases twice as fast.

I give an indignant snort and turn around, unzipping the very top of the back of my suit. Only a few inches down from the opening, I stop and swipe my hair out of the way, exposing a large mottled scar.

I jab it. Twice. And turn to face her.

"You want proof?" I say, and my voice gets unconsciously louder. "Here's your proof."

Juliette's face has gone ashen white.

"Want to know how I got this? Oh, wait, you already know. Because our father, our own _father_, used a poker stick as a warning, to keep me from touching him. He would wave it in the air just like a gun, like he was the police, apprehending a criminal. And one day, when I reached just a little to close to grab something near her, he was so scared that he actually used it."

Her eyes are closed, as if she's blocking out the memory with sheer force of will, her forehead scrunched into tiny little rivers. But my eyes are open, wide open, forced open with anger and betrayal and the reminder of all the memories and moments that I lost.

"This will never heal," I say, shaking my head. I'm no longer talking about the scar. "This is unfair. _This is unfair_. But there's nothing I can do. So I'm going to do what I can do, and use my power."

Juliette opens her mouth as if to say something, but I beat her to it.

"No," I say. "Listen to me. I can depend on myself. Myself, and my own strength. And I will use it. So either you will help me and listen, or you will stay quiet and go on as if you never saw me. But you must, and you _will_, choose your own path. Because I've probably just changed mine already."

I'm done. But Juliette #2 doesn't seem to want to say anything either. We just stare at each other for a few, long moments, and then she speaks.

"Well, I'm convinced."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help smiling and knowing that I did at least something right.

"I'm ready to listen," she begins, "but on one condition. I don't know what you're planning, or why you're here, or even how you're here. But whatever this involves, I need to get off this compound. And I need to… bring someone with me."

Her face blushes slightly red.

"Please," I say, now beginning to frown, "You mean Adam?"

She looks so surprised that it's almost funny.

"Juliette," I continue, "I know everything about you. You're me, remember?" I know I shouldn't, but I've already changed so much, and this one thing wouldn't make such a difference, would it?

I repeat myself. "Juliette," and sigh, "just… don't get too attached. His heart is in the right place. Just be careful, that's all."

"What?" she says, and her eyebrows scrunch together. "No. Adam would never hurt me. No. You're not allowed to take this away. Adam is all I have left."

I want to tell her about Aaron. I want to, oh, so badly. But she has to find out on her own. And I've at least given her a heads-up now.

"Okay," I say, willing to drop the subject. "I'll find a way to get you off the compound." I might be able to find Omega Point and get her back on track, back on the time trail that she should be on.

"Good," she says, and nods. "Now, how can I help?"


End file.
